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SMALL HORSES RIDE IN A MEASURE OF TIME / Colette Inez Albums of summer when you were perched on a stubby horse, how light filled up the emptiness of the straggling path. Your eyes, round and dark didn't seem to see more than was needed for the pose. On another path at the whim of the clouds, I slipped a foot into a stirrup and sat on a small, gray horse. In the picture, light eats the darkside of the shrubs, shadows on my face. Now the horses ride in a measure of lost time. The camera has stopped our childhood in its revery. We leave that frontier for this green film of leaves in an almost overlavish summer—snapshots of winter in a frozen spool—and come to love despite the dark photographer trailing our steps out of the frame and into these red kisses. Geraniums and the lip of the moon in the shot on the path where we blur in the dusk, two faint lines who don't seem to need more than is seen in the woods. The Missouri Review · 15 ...


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